


Sweetest Cookie

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [44]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cookies, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Dwalin visiting Bilbo after BOTFA and finding a young maiden(you) walk through the halls. He becomes protective of the newly found guest at Bilbo’s.</p><p>300 Followers Drabble Celebration</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetest Cookie

The invitation had always been open ended. Balin frequented every few years, sometimes annually, to see the burglar. But Dwalin had yet to visit. The hobbit had grown on him, in the near two years of the journey. Where there were hobbits, there was always food. And that was the quickest way into Dwalin’s good graces.

Especially cookies, which the hobbit had plenty of in their first meet. But the small person that answered the door was not Bilbo. No, it was a fair lass with curly reddish hair and eyes as blue as water if he had ever seen it. She gave him a bright smile, showing him a dimple on a single cheek, and ushered him inside, calling for the burglar. 

And then she disappeared. 

“Dwalin!” Bilbo cried. Dwalin drew his gaze away from where she had disappeared to in order to see the elderly hobbit coming for him. He hobbled now, instead of walked, in a way that Balin had done before reclaiming Moria. “It’s so good to see you. Please, come in, come in.” Dwalin shed himself of his battle axes and his cloak, before following the hobbit further into the home. 

“A daughter?”

Bilbo seemed startled by the question. “Oh, Y/N? Oh, no. She’s just a cousin of mine. My relatives breed like mad dogs, I tell you.” Bilbo sat himself down at a table, and Dwalin found that it was the same as the very table they had all met at years ago. They had all been younger then. Now, Dwalin’s beard had specks of gray in it to show his age. Not old, per say, but old enough.

“She’s come to stay with me until she can get back on her feet.” Dwalin raised an eyebrow, in question. “Nasty business, you see. With all those Orcs come to ransack the West, her family was killed. And she had ridden day and night to get here during that wretched war.” The War for the Ring. Yes, Dwalin had heard enough about it from the safety of Erebor. From the homeland that he had been forced away from, and had now willingly parted. “All of them. Parents, siblings, even her boyfriend. Terrible. Simply terrible, I tell you-”

“How … upsetting.” Dwalin wasn’t expected such an emotional story for the girl. But he supposed that was what he got for asking such questions.

“She’ll be taking over the estate here in Bag End after Frodo and I have gone.” 

Dwalin blinked. “Gone?”

“We’re sailing west with the elves,” Bilbo said as if it were common knowledge. Dwalin hadn’t gotten this missive. He was sure that most of those in the Company did not even keep contact with each other, let alone with the distanced hobbit. “And I’ve left everything to her. She’ll hold it all well enough. She’ll need to find someone, Shire law says, to marry, of course, but she’ll hold it well enough once she gets on her feet.”

“Shire law says she must marry?”

“No house can be owned by a single person,” Bilbo insisted. “Too much power to one person. Land controls wealth, of course-”

“You are not married… nor were you when we arrived some sixty years ago.”

“Nor will I be,” Bilbo agreed, much to Dwalin’s growing confusion. “I wrote up a contact with Frodo’s family years ago, that they would own a percentage of the land. And with their passing, my dear Frodo inherited it. So we have co-owned Bag End. However, since we will both be gone, she will get all of it-”

“I see,” Dwalin said, though he only saw that hobbit laws were quite confusing.

“Y/N? If you would be kind enough to put on some tea for us?”

“Already started, Uncle.”

The words reminded Dwalin of a young dwarf that would say things with just as much mischief and amusement. But that young dwarf was gone. “Good girl.”

And when she entered the room with a steaming pot of tea, pouring it for the two old friends, Dwalin caught a distinct scent that traveled with her. Cookies. Sugar cookies, to be precise. 

“Are you baking cookies?” Dwalin found himself asking.

She gave Dwalin an appraising look. “Why, yes. They’ve just come out of the oven.” And then her smile turned mischievious. “I’ll have to fetch a few, won’t I?”

And she was prancing off again, like a babbling brook. “How long is it that you’re able to stay?” Bilbo asked, pulling Dwalin again from his thoughts. 

“As long as you need me, I’m afraid. I’m not going back to Erebor. So I thought I’d stop by on my way to the Grey Mountains.” Dwalin’s excuse for stopping had been of a more upsetting nature. But that was not news to share when one first arrived for a chat. That could be delivered later. 

“An old friend is always welcome. We’ll have to make up the guest room.” She returned like a sweet bakery and with a steaming plate of cookies. 

“You’ll have to be careful. They’re hot,” she warned, but the warning was lost as Dwalin took a cookie from the plate almost immediately and bit into it. Moist and gooey. And… Oh, Mahal. Divine. He must have made some noise of appreciation because she gave him a warm smile. 

How could it be that someone who had lost everything could smile so brightly?

And Dwalin knew, in that moment, that his duty as a protector was not done. He had fought in wars, and held dying companions in his arms. Lost friends. Lost those he cared to protect. But he would not see this girl lose his old friend’s house. So if he had to fight Shire folk that competed against her for it, then he’d do it. But a few hobbits were no more menacing than a pile of worms. 

He doubted she even wanted to marry, after losing what she had. The law sounded like crock to him. He had lived a hundred and fifty ears and he hadn’t married. He could own property if he wanted. “Fantastic.”

“We hobbits, if anything, like food.”

“Everyone likes food if they’re surrounded by good cooks.” And Dwalin sent her a returning smile that had her set the plate down in front of him. “And Hobbits are excellent cooks.”

The flush was like the icing on the sweetest cookie, and then she flounced away, apparently quite pleased with herself. And Bilbo just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t let her fool you. She’s got quite a prankster streak if she means to.” Just like Kili, then. Like the two boys that he had grown to protect since they were wee babes. And he had failed in doing. If he had to, he’d protect her like he had failed to protect them. Already he felt strangely protective over her, like a father would a daughter.

“I’m sure with you gone, she’ll go on plenty of adventures of her own.”

Bilbo just chuckled. “Oh, I’ve no doubt.”


End file.
